


The Fight

by supernaturallylost



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute, Dean is a Softie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, Light Angst, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Thunderstorms, cas is a whiny sick person, lots and lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturallylost/pseuds/supernaturallylost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is already sick when he hits his knee on some jerk’s poorly parked car, so he leaves a note with his name and number in case the owner wants to fight about it. The next day, the owner decides to call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Invitation

“Really?” Castiel groaned to himself.

He reached down to massage his bruised knee while glaring at the back of a horribly parked impala. While grumbling, he reached into his pocket and grabbed a pen and paper. After scribbling a snarky and belligerent note, he continued to his own car and drove away.

A day later, Castiel was reclining on his green lazy boy and reading a western by Louis L’amour. He turned the page with a sigh, enjoying the relaxing warmth of the sun streaming through the window and resting like a blanket on his head and shoulders.

He jumped when his phone vibrated on the table next to him.

Sticking it between his shoulder and his ear so he could keep reading, he answered, “Hello, this is Castiel.”

“Hey Cas,” a stranger responded. His voice was gruff and sure, and Castiel could hear the smirk. “This is Dean Winchester. You left a note on my car yesterday saying a bunch of stuff about fighting and learning to drive. You gave me your number, so I thought I’d call.”

Castiel dropped his book into his lap and stared blankly at the wall.

“Cas?” Dean said from the other end of the phone.

“Castiel,” he corrected, snapping to attention. “Yes, that’s right. I slammed my knee into your bumper on my way out of the store. I almost dropped my cold medicine when I got that bruise. Not to mention, I hit my knee again today on some box that was delivered to my house.”

“Box of what?” Dean asked, clearly grinning.

“A bunch of books,” Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know where they came from, but they caused me a lot of pain.”

“Did you get rid of them?”

Castiel looked down at the book in his lap. “Well, no. I mean, they came to me. I might as well read them.”

“That’s the spirit,” Dean smirked. He took a deep breath and said, “Well, you mentioned in your note that you were feeling ill, but that you’d – and I’m quoting this here – ‘still smite the son of a bitch who didn’t pay attention in driving education classes’. So, I was wondering if I could take you up on that. Say, tonight? Six o’clock?”

Castiel took a deep breath with the intention of disagreeing, but then he stopped. His shoulders fell and he squinted at the clock on his wall.

“It’s six now,” he said.

There was a knock on his door just as Castiel’s call ended. Slowly and suspiciously, Castiel stood and walked to the door. When he opened it, his eyes widened.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean smiled.

He had light brown hair, the brightest green eyes, and a million freckles. Castiel didn’t even correct Dean about his full name because of the sight of flowers and a get well card.

“I felt bad,” Dean said as he shoved past Castiel and into the apartment’s kitchen, “for hurting you after you were already sick. So I thought we could postpone our fight until you get better. I brought you flowers and a card, because they’re supposed to help. I’m glad you’re enjoying the books, by the way.”

Castiel closed the door slowly, turned to see Dean unpacking a brown grocery bag, and stared open-mouthed with shock.

“Oh,” Dean said, snapping his fingers, “and I brought you some more cough medicine, in case you ran out.”

“Did I give you my address?”

“Nah,” Dean shrugged. “I checked the phone book. You gave me your name and number, so it wasn’t hard. Anyway, I could make you some stew, some macaroni and cheese, or some chicken noodle soup. What’s your poison, Cas?”

“Why do you have to call me that?” Castiel sighed, sitting down sadly on a bar stool.

“What do you mean? Haven’t you had a nickname before?” Dean inspected his groceries, deciding which dish to make.

“Sure,” Castiel waved his hand. “I’ve been called lots of things. Goody two shoes, cherub cheeks…”

“Cherub cheeks?” Dean repeated. He bit his cheeks and tried not to laugh.

“You can see why I’m against nicknames,” Castiel nodded pointedly.

“Well, you might as well accept your new name, Cas, ‘cause I don’t have time for three syllables. I think I’ll make the chicken noodle soup, if you don’t mind. It’s best for the early days of a sickness.”

“What are you even doing in my apartment?”

“Hey, you invited me. If we’re gonna have a big throw down, you need to be in tip top shape. Otherwise, you don’t stand a chance.”


	2. Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes the Winchester cure-all soup for Castiel.

Dean whistled in the kitchen while he boiled a chicken.

Meanwhile, Castiel sat in his green chair by the window. His brow furrowed and he wondered why he’d allowed this stranger into his house.

“Cas?” Dean called. “Would you rather have buttered bread or crackers with your soup?”

“It’s Castiel,” he responded tersely.

“You’re right,” Dean answered. “Crackers are better for upset stomachs, so if you have any nausea with your cold, crackers should soak up that acid for you. Good call, Cas!”

Castiel groaned, reclining further on his chair. He picked up his book and tried to focus on the life of explorer Jubal Sackett. Impatiently, Castiel harrumphed. When he was ready to turn the page, he did so with such violence that the page ripped.

“I hope you like celery,” Dean said a couple minutes later. “I cut more than I meant to, so it’s a little vegetable heavy.”

Castiel emitted a low whine.

“Sam says vegetables are good for you,” Dean continued to say. “I’m not convinced, but I use them out of habit now. I guarantee you’ll love the soup, though. It’s an old Winchester recipe.”

Castiel lifted his book and read to distract himself from the constant blubbering. He read the same paragraph three times in a row before he closed his eyes and decided to take a nap.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Dean blabbered about himself, his cooking skills, and explained to an invisible audience how to plate a perfect bowl of soup. He smiled, fixed another bowl for himself, and brought the food into the living room. Once there, he saw Cas sleeping, his chin tucked down and his head rolling on his shoulder. A book was resting on his stomach. Dean grinned when he saw it was his favorite of the westerns he’d sent.

With a sigh, Dean put the soup on the side table before reaching over to gently shake Cas awake.

“Who is it?” he screeched sleepily. Dean groaned, squatted down in pain, and exclaimed “son of a bitch” before Castiel realized he’d reflexively punched the air. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?”

Dean rubbed his chin while laughing.

“You’re not as weak as you look,” Dean grinned. “This fight isn’t gonna be as easy as I thought, is it?”

Castiel couldn’t help but laugh apologetically.

“So, Castiel, I’ve made you some soup,” Dean said, stretching his jaw.

“You can call me Cas,” he responded, looking at a very deliberately presented bowl of soup, complete with crackers along the side. With his eyes downcast, he didn’t see the elated light in Dean’s eyes.

Cas took a deep breath of the soup as Dean moved to sit on the couch beside him. Dean waited impatiently for Cas to taste the soup, and finally, after several sighs and mysterious coughing fits from Dean, Cas brought the spoon to his lips.

At first he smiled, but then he regained composure.

“It’s good,” Cas shrugged.

“Noncommittal,” Dean noted.

“Well, I’ve had better soup.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he should smile at sarcasm or frown at frankness, so he simply turned to inhaling his own soup.

After eating, Dean insisted that he make sure Cas was tucked into his bed with plenty of blankets and pillows, and with crackers and water beside the bed just in case he needed them. By the time Dean stood back in the doorway, Cas was buried under several blankets with only the very top of his head poking out.

“Okay, Cas,” Dean sighed. “You look like you’re good to go. I’ll stop by tomorrow morning and we’ll see how you are. Hopefully you’ll be a little more lively.”

“Fight me,” Cas responded, though his words were muddled and muffled by the blankets over his head.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Dean smiled, turning off the light. “See you tomorrow, Cas. Sweet dreams.”

For a while after Dean left, Cas simply lay in his cocoon of blankets. Then, he couldn’t help but stand and walk sneakily into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, his mouth impatient for the rest of the soup, but he saw none. Dropping his shoulders, he sighed in discontent.

On his way out of the kitchen, a bright yellow note on top of an opaque plastic bowl caught his eye. When he walked over, he read, “If you’re reading this, you secretly love my soup. Stick this in the microwave for a minute and then add 15 seconds as needed. Or you can stick this in a pan on the stove and warm it up until it boils. If you use the stove, be careful and make sure you turn it off after you use it. Enjoy your second dinner! There’s another bowl in the very back of the fridge if you need more. Judging by what I found stuffed back there, I didn’t think you’d find that bowl before this one. Sleep well!”

Though he tried to frown as he poured the soup into a saucepan, a smile crept its way onto Cas’ face. Narrowing his eyes, he found the yellow notepad and wrote his own note. He straightened the note to line up with the edges of the counter, still smiling absently.

After eating his bowl of soup, he walked over petulantly to the stove to prove to himself that it was off, discreetly turned the dial from ‘high’ to ‘off’, and flipped the light switch before returning contentedly to hibernation.


	3. Wake-Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas wakes up to an unexpected sound and ends up with a big decision to make.

Castiel normally woke to the sound of birds and traffic, but this time he awoke to the sound of a dying chainsaw. He winced as he draped one of his blankets over his head to cover his ears. Silently, he crept from his room, blanket and all, to find the source of the racket.

“Nuh nuh bu-duh!” he heard from the living room.

When he turned the corner, Cas saw Dean Winchester strumming diligently on an air guitar. His mouth fell open. Dean’s voice was as rough as an old, idle motor.

“Please stop,” Cas finally said. He raised his hands in surrender. “You can have my apartment and my stuff if you just stop.”

Dean beamed.

“I got your note!” he laughed. “It wasn’t as neatly written as last time, mind you.”

Ignoring him, Cas said, “How did you get in here? I didn’t give you a key.”

Dean bit his lip, and Cas swore he saw Dean’s cheeks grow red.

“I may have bribed your landlord,” Dean admitted. “I told him you’d been sick and I was looking after you. He was very nice about it.”

Cas groaned. “Chuck.”

Without any apology, Dean took a deep breath, walked forward, and put the back of his hand to Cas’ forehead.

“Why do people think that’s medically accurate?” Cas asked.

Uncertain if he was serious or not, Dean just laughed and nodded. “You’re better, but I’d give it another day of rest. Do you work at all? You might have to take the day off.”

“Lucky for me,” Cas whined as he sat down on the couch, “they let me take the rest of my life off.”

Dean frowned and sat next to Cas, who was covering his yawn with the blanket that was over his head. Almost without thought, Dean grabbed Cas’ legs and pulled them onto his lap. Cas dipped down so that he was lying on the armrest, stretched out over the couch and Dean.

While casually massaging Cas’ feet, Dean asked, “You were fired?”

“They preferred the terms ‘permanently disassociated’ and ‘indefinitely reprieved’.” Cas closed his eyes, resigned to the foot massage.

“Where did you work?”

“You probably don’t know it,” Cas shrugged. “It was a sort of urban farm. I maintained the bees.”

“Bees are the worst,” Dean whispered.

Cas laughed. “Did you know that bees have personalities? There was one bee in particular that used to drink out of my coffee cup. She loved the caffeine.”

Dean stopped rubbing Cas’ feet for a moment to try and picture Cas tending to a bunch of bees.

“Did you name any of them?” he wondered.

“Well, there was Big Bee,” Cas counted on his finger sarcastically, “Little Bee, Angry Bee, To Bee or not to Bee, and about two hundred thousand Bob Bees.”

Dean lightly slapped Cas’ foot. “Have you ever said anything that wasn’t sassy?”

“No,” Cas answered, wiggling his toes.

Over his knees, and the piled up blanket on top of him, he could just see Dean’s eyes wandering to the window, smiling at the sight.

“This is a nice place,” Dean sighed. “I wish I could find a place like this instead of staying with my brother all of the time.”

Cas bit his cheek awkwardly. They let the silence last for several minutes.

Eventually, Dean exhaled and smiled. He set Cas’ feet down gently and said, “Breakfast?”

Cas frowned.

“I don’t understand something,” Cas admitted. “I hit your car with my knee, wrote a note saying I wanted to fight you, and now you’re here making me food and giving me massages.”

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” Dean smiled.

“Why?” Cas asked genuinely. He propped himself up on his elbows and searched Dean’s eyes. “Do you care this much about everything?”

Dean looked from Cas’ eyes to his still wiggling toes. “Maybe I just really wanted to fight someone,” he answered. He karate chopped Cas’ ankle teasingly.

Sounding like a diving airplane, Cas groaned as he sat up on the couch. After taking a deep breath, he folded his arms over his knees and put his head on top of them.

“Dean,” he said simply.

“Cas,” Dean responded. He looked up with humor on his lips, but something else in his eyes. Finally, he added, “I wanted to make sure you were okay. In your note, you said you rarely got sick. I felt bad that you got sick in the first place, and then you had to run into my car. I came to check up on you, that’s all.”

“And you’re still here because…?” Cas tucked his chin in between his folded arms.

“Do you want me to leave?” Dean answered quietly and genuinely.

Cas thought for a moment what would happen if Dean left. He'd go back to bed, probably, or eat a frozen pizza. He might read the westerns, but mostly he'd probably sleep.

Then he thought about Dean staying, playing Mario Kart with him, making him homemade whatever, and reading with him from the westerns he’d sent over. Even now, just sitting on the couch with him, Cas felt comforted. Dean's green eyes smiled in the sunlight, his hair did the sticking-up-everywhere thing Cas always liked, and his finger fidgeted gently as he waited for an answer.

“No,” Cas decided. “Please stay.”

Dean smiled, and Cas noticed the crow's feet around his eyes when he did. He also noticed the way Dean's cheeks rose high enough that his eyes were squinting when he smiled. Dean's smile, Cas realized, was one of the warmest he'd ever known.


	4. Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas learns something very surprising about his new friend Dean Winchester.

Grilled cheese was a sandwich that Castiel could make. He knew how to butter the bread, put some cheese in the middle, and set the heat to medium. Somehow, though, Dean’s version of grilled cheese was better.

“What did you do differently?” Cas asked with wide eyes. “How can bread and cheese taste this good?”

Dean grinned and shrugged. “A good cook knows that secrets are what make the recipes taste good. Cooking is a lot like a magic trick, when you think about it. If you know how it’s done, it loses the allure.”

Cas grunted as he took another bite. While he was chewing, Dean reached over with the back of his hand to feel his forehead.

“You seem a lot better,” he smiled.

“I feel a lot better.”

Cas avoided Dean’s eyes. What now? he asked himself.

“So, are we doing this, then?” Dean asked.

Hesitantly, Cas swallowed the last bite of his sandwich. He looked at Dean’s lips and back to his eyes before answering. “Are we doing what?”

“The fight.”

Dean bit back a smile and watched as Cas tried to come up with an answer.

“Well,” Cas began.

Suddenly, the house shook very slightly. The blinds had been closed earlier to cut the glare on the TV, but behind them now flashed a bright white light. First, the dark rumble of thunder rattled the blinds. Then, the loud screech of surprise shook Castiel from his seat and knocked him onto the floor.

“Ouch!” Cas yelled when Dean tripped over him in his attempt to run away. “What are you doing?”

Dean didn’t even pause as he regained his footing and hastened down the hallway. Cas waited for a few short moments before he realized that Dean didn’t plan on returning any time soon. With a sigh that was both amused and exasperated, Cas got up and went to find Dean.

He peeked into the bathroom and the bedroom and the linen closet twice each before he heard the crash of his alarm clock. With a smile, Cas walked into his bedroom. On the floor beside the bed, with his arms wrapped around his knees, Dean was folded onto himself as much as he could be.

“Are you afraid of thunder?” Cas asked.

Instead of answering, Dean just scooted further into the corner of the room. Cas grinned and walked over. Casually, he plopped down beside Dean on the ground.

A particularly loud crack of thunder shook the window pane again, and Dean’s arms covered his head. He rocked forward slightly and took deep breaths.

“Where are you from, Dean?” Cas asked nonchalantly. “Have you always lived here in town?”

When Dean looked up, his brow was arched.

“No,” he answered. The word sounded like a question. Clearly surprised by the random conversation, he added, “I’m from Kansas originally.”

“Really? I come from a place up north. How’d you end up in Oregon?”

Dean winced at the next round of thunder, but he still managed to respond. “My kid brother got a job working for Intel here. He’s the only family I have, so I came with him.”

Cas nodded with a smile.

“So what do you do for a living?”

Dean leaned back against the wall and smiled. He finally understood what Cas was doing.

“I’m a mechanic,” he said, “and a handyman, and a mythology buff.”

Cas squinted. “Do you know anything about plumbing?”

Dean laughed. Just as he did, however, another loud boom of thunder came. Instinctively, Dean grabbed hold of the closest steady object.

“Oh,” Cas said softly. He looked down at Dean’s hand in his. Dean meanwhile, closed his eyes as the thunder continued rumbling. He squeezed Cas’ hand. With concern in his voice, Cas managed to whisper, “It’s okay, Dean.”

Quietly, Dean leaned over. His eyes were still closed when his head fell onto Cas’ shoulder. He squeezed Cas’ hand harder.

“It’s okay,” Cas whispered. His eyes were wide and his neck was red, and despite the shock and surprise of the situation, he could tell that he was internally thrilled.

Dean turned a little to hide his face on Cas’ shoulder. Hesitantly, Cas pulled his hand from Dean’s grasp and gently wrapped it around Dean’s shoulder. Dean immediately settled in against Cas’ chest and grabbed for his other hand.

“You’re going to be fine,” Cas smiled softly. “It’s okay, Dean.”

He felt Dean take a deep breath. For the next hour, Dean tensed when the thunder rolled, but relaxed when Cas rubbed his shoulder blade. At some points, Dean was able to speak about his hobbies and interests, many of which Cas shared.

Eventually, the storm died down. The thunder was farther away and the lightning was inconsistent.

“I think it’s over,” Cas whispered against Dean’s head. He’d been resting his own head on Dean’s for the past five minutes. Now, he felt Dean take a deep breath.

“Cas?” came the muffled voice. “Thank you.”

Cas smiled and closed his eyes. “You’re welcome, Dean.”


	5. Doctor Sexy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After falling asleep for a few hours after the thunder storm, Castiel wakes up in the middle of the night and finds Dean in the living room watching his favorite show.

When he awoke, Castiel knew something was wrong. He was still leaning against the wall where he had fallen asleep with Dean in his arms, but Dean was no longer there. Cas took a deep breath and stood up, ignoring the dizziness that came from standing too quickly. He walked out of the room and saw the living room light on. The colors flashing against the wall indicated that the television was turned on. The time must have been around eleven or midnight.

Cas walked quietly toward the living room and leaned on the doorframe. He smiled at Dean, who was sitting in front of the couch wrapped in a blanket.

“What are you watching?” Cas asked gently.

“Doctor Sexy,” Dean smiled around the blanket. He looked up at Cas and asked, “Are you hungry? We slept past dinner, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

Cas shrugged and walked into the room. Slowly, he sat down facing Dean on the floor. He grabbed the remote and muted the TV.

“Are you okay?” he asked simply.

Dean didn’t answer.

“You’ve been taking care of me, Dean. I appreciate it,” Cas nodded genuinely. He reached out and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I just want to make sure you’re cared for, too.”

Dean’s jaw clenched when he sighed. His eyes weighed Cas’ interest, determining whether or not he genuinely wanted to hear what Dean was going to say.

“I don’t like thunder,” Dean said quietly. “It sounds too familiar to me.”

Cas could sense where Dean was headed, so he pulled his hand away and tried to show that he was paying close attention to every word.

“My life,” Dean began, “has been unique. My dad had this business, I guess, that was dangerous. It was violent.”

Dean looked down.

“When he met my mom, they both swore off that life. My mom died after my brother was born, and that meant that dad went right back to his business. This time, he brought us with him.”

Dean pulled on his ear while Cas prepared for the worst.

“I never wanted Sam to have that life, so I tried to do most of what dad told us to. I did a lot of things I’m not proud of, all for the sake of business. It was dangerous. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. It was also never enough for dad. He always wanted more from me. You have to know that he never hit me. My dad wasn’t ever physically rough with me. His voice, though, was like thunder. It could be calm and dark and slow, or it could crack like a whip.”

Cas’ hand inched toward Dean’s instinctively.

“Eventually, dad’s business killed him, and I found a way to get Sam out. He went to college and now he works for a nerdy tech place.” Dean tried to smile. “I got myself out after Sam, and it’s been years now since we had that life. There are reminders, though.”

Cas watched as Dean pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal a tattoo. It looked like the sun to Cas. There were rays of fire and inside was a faint outline of a star-like shape.

“This is from his business,” Dean whispered. “And so are these.”

Dean reached into his pocket. He withdrew a set of keys and an old knife with a leather handle.

“Then there’s thunder,” Dean smirked without humor. “I’m not scared of a little electricity, and I’m not scared of harsh winds or rains.”

“But thunder,” Cas finished, “brings everything back for you.”

His fingers were now slowly interlocking with Dean’s. Dean only nodded and spread his fingers for Cas to play with.

“What about you?” Dean asked softly. “How’d you end up here?”

Cas took a steadying breath.

“I was disowned,” he said simply. “I had a big family, and we were happy. Rich, whole, with tiffs every now and again, but nothing too serious. Then the oldest rebelled and was thrown out of the family. Some other siblings left, too. Eventually, I lost touch and decided there were more important things than what they had to offer. I left, they disowned me, and now I live here.”

Dean bit his lip, swallowed hard, and looked down at their hands, now fidgeting absently with each other. Cas could see that he was still anxious from the storm.

“What helps?” Cas asked delicately.

With a wry smile, Dean nodded to the TV. “Doctor Sexy helps.” Cas nodded and looked at the remote. Before he could reach it to unmute the TV, he heard Dean say under his breath, “You help.”

Castiel froze.

Dean bit his cheek nervously and ran his index finger over Cas’. He looked at Cas’ narrowed eyes, his wrinkled forehead, his tensed jaw. He looked at Cas’ soft dark hair, his gentle blue eyes, his chapped pale lips. For several moments, Dean looked at Cas.

Finally, Cas looked back. His mouth opened, as if he planned to ask a question. Before a single word was said, however, Dean released Cas’ hand and stood. He shrugged off the blanket and took a deep breath.

“I’ll make us some dinner,” he said. Without another word, he walked away.

Castiel sat on the floor, the television throwing different colors at the back of his head, for an entire minute before he was able to force himself to his feet. The dizziness overwhelmed him this time, and he fell backward onto the couch.

While Dean whistled in the kitchen, Cas tried to understand what was happening in his life. How many days ago had they met? It felt like they’d known each other for months. With a furrowed brow, Cas grabbed the blanket Dean had used and pulled it over himself. He straightened up on the couch just in time for Dean to return with a bowl of macaroni and cheese.

“I don’t know if you like applesauce with yours,” Dean said. “I always have to have it, so I brought some if you’d like any.”

Cas only stared at Dean for a moment. Dean pretended not to notice as he unmuted the television and began to eat.


	6. Winner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has finally recovered from his illness. Will the much anticipated fight finally occur? If so, who will be named winner?

Cas woke up in his bed. A horrible, loud, off-key screeching noise carried through the apartment. This time, Cas knew what it was and smiled. With an affectionate sigh, he sat up. Finally, he could feel that his cold was entirely gone.

“War,” Dean grunted musically, “hngh! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing! Say it again!”

Castiel searched around his mattress for a few moments in an attempt to find his second pillow. Oftentimes, during any particularly fitful night, Cas would wake up to find one of his pillows thrown mercilessly against the wall. After a second, however, Cas remembered that Dean had slept on his couch and borrowed that pillow. Although he tried to stifle the smile, it crept onto his face until it sat conspicuously and victoriously on his lips.

Dean was already on the second refrain of his song when Cas finally made his way down the hallway. The first thing he noticed was a neatly stacked pile of blankets on the couch, with his pillow on top.

“You’re looking a lot better, Cas,” Dean grinned. He turned off the TV. “I guess that’s my cue to leave you in peace, huh?”

Cas’ smile remained intact, but his eyes widened with an unpleasant confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Dean tossed his keys in his hand.

“Well, unless you really wanted to have our ultimate throw down,” he smirked. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. If a guy is sick enough to threaten someone for parking poorly, who knows what else he could do. No one should have that amount of power.”

“You’re leaving,” Cas said. His smile faded and he stared with shock.

Dean nodded. “You’re all better, aren’t you?”

Cas’ mouth opened and closed again.

Dean smiled and walked into the kitchen to grab the rest of the groceries he’d brought on the first day. Cas hesitated before striding after him. While Dean looked down into his brown paper bag and checked the kitchen to make sure he’d cleaned up after himself, Cas struggled to put the right words in the right order.

“You leave,” Cas mumbled incoherently.

Dean didn’t notice.

“Can’t you but,” he tried again.

Dean continued checking the stove and the refrigerator to make sure all was back to its original state. Desperately, Cas reached down and grabbed the yellow sticky note on the counter.

“This,” he said, shoving the note toward Dean.

With a curious sigh, Dean took the note. It was Cas’ response to the midnight soup from a day or two ago. Cas’ finger was in line with the ending, which read, “Don’t get a big head. Just because I love your soup doesn’t mean anything. Love, Cas.”

Dean nodded.

“Remember when you tried to convince me you didn’t like nicknames?” he smiled fondly. “Now you’re using it for everything.”

“Dean,” Cas said.

“I know,” Dean laughed. “I’ve intruded enough. I’ll get out of your hair now. I really hope you enjoy the books, Cas.”

Dean tried to walk out of the kitchen, but Cas stepped in his way.

“Wait, Dean,” Cas said. His brow was furrowed and his eyes indignant. He shook his head, at a loss for words. “I thought…”

Dean waited.

Quietly, Cas asked, “Did this really not mean anything to you?”

Dean shifted the weight of the grocery bag to his left arm and reached out to Cas’ shoulder with his right hand.

“Of course it meant something. I helped you get better, and now you’re healthy. My job is done.”

Cas made a low, involuntary whimper. Then, something hot and quick uncoiled in his belly, and Cas knew he was angry.

“What are you talking about?” he said. The words would have sounded like a growl, were his voice not so pathetically, transparently, and perplexingly broken.

Dean sidled around Cas and stepped back toward the door.

“Castiel,” Dean said with a hand raised. The rest of his sentence was visibly bitten back.

“Is this a habit of yours?” Cas grunted. “Do you go to the houses of every ill person on the street and make them food and read to them and make sure they get enough rest and tell them they help you feel safe? Do you do this to everyone?”

Dean’s shoulders fell and he lost his composure.

“I’m just not sure,” Dean whispered. “I don’t think I meant to go this far.”

Cas snatched the yellow note from Dean’s hand and pointed again.

“You never thought,” Cas almost yelled, “that maybe you were leading me on?”

Before Dean could answer, Cas began yelling in earnest.

“’Love, Cas’,”he quoted from the note, thrusting it into Dean’s face. “I wrote ‘Love, Cas,’ and you didn’t think that maybe you were playing the game a little too convincingly?”

Dean tried to speak but Cas kept yelling and stepping forward. Dean matched Cas’ movements until he found himself just beside the door to the apartment.

“And last night,” Cas was yelling. Tears welled in his eyes. “Last night meant nothing to you? Did you say anything that you meant, or were you just experimenting to see my reaction? Am I your test subject?”

“Cas, please,” Dean insisted.

In a flash, Dean’s face was turned to the ground, his cheek stinging and red. Cas was breathing heavily, clenching and unclenching his own tingling palm.

When Dean managed to look up, he saw a tear run down Castiel’s cheek.

“Get out,” Castiel said under his breath. He reached behind Dean to open the door.

Without another word, Dean turned and left.

After slamming the door, Castiel panted. He let the tears fall freely, crumpled the yellow note in his hand, and slid down against the door. He tried to stop thinking, but all that came to mind was that fight, over and over in his mind.

Eventually, Castiel managed a weak whisper.

“I win.”


	7. Round Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The forecast predicts a thunderstorm again. Castiel tries to prepare himself, but there is no way he could have anticipated what would happen during the storm.

Castiel wandered aimlessly around his apartment for a few hours. He’d switch between lying on his bed and the green lazy boy in the living room. Sometimes he would pick up the newspaper and pretend to read. Sometimes he would make a snack and pretend to eat.

A day passed. The seething dissipated and hunger infiltrated Castiel’s consciousness. He went to the kitchen and ate, and for a few minutes, he didn’t think about Dean.

There were reminders, though.

The stack of blankets, for example, hadn’t moved an inch. Castiel still had not reclaimed his second pillow. At one point in the kitchen, Castiel opened the fridge to see a bowl of soup stuffed into the back. His appetite, needless to say, disappeared soon after.

Every once in a while, a movie lit up the television in the living room. When Castiel could bear sitting down for a few minutes, he’d watch the movie. He was always, however, one leather jacket, one pair of green eyes, one vaguely circular tattoo away from getting up and walking out of the room.

A thunderstorm on the forecast for the evening of the second day also served as a reminder of Dean.

Castiel found himself dreading the storm. For hours beforehand, he cleaned the apartment and absently searched for blankets – neglecting the neatly stacked pile on the couch, of course – and water bottles and books. While collecting reading material, however, he inevitably stumbled upon the westerns Dean had sent to him. It took several minutes of internal debate, but Castiel eventually reached gingerly for the book Dean had been reading to him. _Ride the River_ , it was called.

All of the sudden, it brought everything back.

_“Well, you mentioned in your note that you were feeling ill, but that you’d – and I’m quoting this here – ‘still smite the son of a bitch who didn’t pay attention in driving education classes’. So, I was wondering if I could take you up on that. Say, tonight? Six o’clock?”_

When the first round of thunder began rumbling outside, Castiel sat down heavily and steadied his breaths. He glanced at the blankets folded neatly on the couch.

_“I got your note! It wasn’t as neatly written as last time, mind you.”_

The thunder rang through the apartment, vibrating through the windows and against the floor. The blinds shook a little from the force.

_“Cas? Thank you.”_

Suddenly, the thunder sounded like heavy metal footfalls. The sound reverberated throughout the apartment, and Castiel looked up in confusion. Again, the sound echoed, solid and closer than was possible.

“Cas!” he heard. Immediately, his eyes widened.

“Castiel!” Dean called again from the door. “Please, let me in!”

Without a thought, Castiel raced to the apartment door and opened it.

Dean’s hair was wet from the rain, his lips quivering from fear of the storm, and his hands folded around something small and white.

“Cas,” he breathed. Water streamed down his face from his storm-soaked hair. “I understand if you want to slap me again, but…”

Before he finished, Castiel stepped out of the doorframe. He reached forward with concern in his eyes and pulled Dean inside the apartment.

“What are you doing?” Cas gasped. Dean was shivering from cold and anxiety. He breathed unsteadily and his legs shook. “What were you thinking, going out in a thunderstorm?”

Cas quickly ran to grab a blanket from the untouched stack on the couch. When he returned, Dean was doubled over with his hands on his knees. Castiel quickly knocked the door closed with his foot and wrapped Dean with the thick quilt.

“Come on,” Cas whispered unevenly. He pulled Dean by the shoulders back into the farthest room from the wide windows of the living room.

When they reached the bedroom, Castiel sat Dean on the bed and wrapped an arm over him, rubbing his shoulders.

“Dean,” he breathed. Dean was rocking a little bit, fighting the anxiety that Cas could see in his eyes. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Dean shook his head.

“Castiel,” he whispered. “I came to see you.”

Cas kept rubbing Dean’s arm. When another round of cackling thunder ran through the apartment, Dean flinched.

“You’re okay,” Cas said. Dean was so covered in rain that the water was soaking through the blanket. “I’m going to get you a towel, Dean.”

Before Cas was able to stand, Dean reached for his hand. In his eyes was a determined and desperate apology.

“Castiel,” Dean said through his shivering. “I’m sorry.”

Castiel sat down again, his arms at his side.

“I’m sorry for acting like I didn’t care,” Dean panted. He winced when the thunder rolled, but he just licked his lips and continued. “I got scared. I felt myself getting close to you, and I got scared.”

Dean slowly placed his second hand over Cas’s, pressing the white piece of paper he’d been holding against Cas.

“I’m so sorry, Castiel,” he whispered. His eyes closed, his jaw clenched, and his hands shook when the thunder rolled again. “I know you think it didn’t mean anything to me, but you’re wrong. I don’t do this for anyone; it’s only you. I understand if you can’t forgive me, or if you want to throw me out. I just wanted you to know… I needed you to know, that it’s only you.”

Gently, Castiel raised a hand to Dean’s cheek. He ran a thumb over Dean’s jawline.

“Castiel,” Dean whimpered, his eyes closing tighter.

“It’s Cas.”

Dean’s eyes opened just as Cas leaned forward to press his smile against Dean’s lips. Whether from surprise or relief, Dean softly moaned against Cas. After Cas pulled away from the kiss, Dean licked his lips.

“I,” he stammered, “I got you something.”

The white piece of paper in Dean’s hand unfolded. Inside, pressed and preserved, were lily petals.

“You’re, um,” he laughed at himself, “supposed to hang them over your doorway. It sounds dumb now, but the petals are supposed to attract bad energies. I figure, the next time you bring home a virus or something, the petals could soak it up so you won’t get sick.”

Cas’s eyebrow arched and he smiled. Then, he placed the petals on his nightstand before turning seriously toward Dean.

“Dean, I know you’ve had trouble in the past,” he started, “but you can’t do this kind of thing to me.”

With a nod, Dean bit his lip. The thunder rolled again, softer this time, and he clenched his fingers.

“If you’re scared, you can tell me,” Cas said softly. “Don’t run from me. You never have to hide from me, Dean.”

Dean nodded solemnly before looking deeply into Cas’ forgiving blue eyes.

“I’m falling in love with you,” he said, “and it scares me.”

Cas smiled and grabbed both of Dean’s hands with his. Suddenly, a particularly loud crack of thunder made Dean jump upward. He lifted his feet from the floor and up to the bed while his hands accidentally threw themselves upward forcefully.

“Ack!” Cas screamed as hands flew into his face. He quickly grabbed his painfully throbbing nose.

“Oh my gosh,” Dean said with wide eyes. A part of him tried not to laugh while another part tried to hide. “I’m so sorry!”

Cas stared, scrunched his nose, and took a deep breath.

“That’s it,” he said simply as the thunder cackled again.

Without warning, he tackled Dean. In seconds, Dean’s arms were pinned above his head with one of Cas’s hands, his hips were held down by the weight of Cas, and his ribs were being tickled mercilessly by Cas’ second hand. Dean hardly registered when the thunder growled again.

“You wanted a fight,” Dean tried to say through involuntary laughter, “and you’re gonna get one!”

His hips bucked upward while his knees pressed to either side of Cas’ hips. After one quick rock backward, Dean propelled himself forward until he was sitting on his knees with Cas beneath him. While Cas was still reorienting himself, Dean grabbed his hands and pulled them off to either side. Then he tugged them upward, and held them above his head.

“Let’s see how you like it!” he grinned, trailing one hand down Cas’s side to find where he was most ticklish. At the second rib upward, all it took was a poke for Castiel to squirm like a fish out of water.

The two of them continued their fight for half an hour as the thunder moved on. By the end of it, Cas was almost as water covered as Dean was, and there was still no clear winner.

Panting quickly and heavily, Dean was lying beneath Cas with his hands pressed to Cas’s chest. Cas’s hands were resting on either side of Dean’s head as he, too, breathed shallowly. They both wore smiles that lit up their faces.

“Call it a draw?” Dean grinned.

Castiel leaned down. With his lips an inch from Dean’s, he whispered, “I was just going easy on you.”

A growl of challenge came from Dean, but it was swallowed quickly by Cas’s smirking lips.


	8. Pies and Parking Jobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas wakes up alone an starts to worry.

The next morning, Castiel stretched widely and yawned. Habitually, he poked around for his second pillow. When his eyes finally opened, however, all he saw was an empty bed.

“Dean?” he said quietly. He listened for the harsh screeches of Dean’s singing, but all he heard were the sounds of birds and traffic. “Dean?”

Cas practically ran to the living room and into the kitchen. By the time he was standing in the front entry of the apartment, he was breathing heavily and thinking up the many reasons Dean would have left before Cas woke up. Then, just as he realized that Dean must have run off again, the apartment door opened.

“Dean!” Cas gasped. He walked forward and wrapped his arms clumsily around Dean, accidentally squashing the pie he’d brought them for breakfast.

“Hey Cas,” Dean laughed. When Castiel pulled away, Dean frowned at the pie that was now hopelessly attached to his shirt. “The pie…”

“I’m sorry,” Cas groaned with a smile. “Do you think there’s any way we can save it?”

Dean shook his head.

“It’s not going to make it,” Dean answered sadly.

Cas frowned.

“I’m so sorry, Dean. Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered softly. He leaned forward much too slowly, opened his mouth much too closely, and said, “You can take me to the store to get another one.”

“After breakfast?” Cas asked, concentrating on Dean’s breath by his ear.

“The pie was breakfast,” Dean said, pushing closer to Cas. “Unless you had something else in mind?”

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and leaned backwards.

“Definitely,” he grinned.

 

An hour and a half later, Dean was wearing a clean shirt and driving to the store, this time with Cas in the passenger seat.

“Apple pie?” Cas asked.

“Peach,” Dean answered.

“Do you want ice cream with it?”

“I’m a purist,” Dean shook his head, “but if you want some, we can get some.”

Cas reached over for Dean’s hand. Eventually, they made it to the store and Dean pulled into an empty parking space. When Cas got out, he hit his toe on the curb that was much too close to the wheels.

“Really?” he groaned to Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for bearing with me until the end! <3 I've really appreciated your support with this project!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave comments if you've got 'em!


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